Fateful Meetings
by Mango High
Summary: Hey all. Read more inside! We'll try to update AT LEAST twice a week since it's summer. Read and Review! Chapter 4 Up :D Suggestions, Comments, and helpful flames are welcome! WILL START UPDATING AGAIN
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: We own nothing besides our characters x.x and perhaps a little of the story... perhaps...

_Quick A/N:If you guys read our profile (which you should =3), then you would know this is a collaborated account (2 authors). On with the story!_

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><p><em>Added Tuesday, July 19, '11<br>_

Prologue:

The Last

The moon glowed with a red hue and the stars shined with a cold glare in the sky. But from the ground, all was veiled by the smoke. The man moved through the debris like a shadow, his features shadowed by the dark cowl. His movements were silent and graceful contradicting the chaos that lay around him. The sword on his waist glinted, clearly reflecting the hot glare of the flames around him. Normally his blade would catch the eyes of any; its lustrous sheath curved with delicate symbols whose meaning were now understood only by few exposed a hilt embedded with a crimson stone that seemed to flicker with an internal flame of its own, but here there were no living eyes to see it.

It was silent except for the cackling of the flames. There was a movement and a shrill wail echoed in the still night. The man stopped and changed his directions, walking with more urgency to the source of noise.

As he drew closer, the wails quieted into hiccupping sobs. The figure was lying on the ground, desperately shielding a small kicking object in its arms, and shushing it. A small arm flailed and he realized that it was a baby. The figure lifted its head awkwardly, it was a woman, to look at him and the man was stopped short by the hate he saw in her stranger copper colored eyes. His hand wandered unconsciously to his sword and the woman snarled at the movement like a wild animal, her hands becoming claws. It was cut off sharply as she began to cough, blood dripping and staining the already bloodied ground. A long sleek blade had impaled her through the stomach. She watched wearily as he approached, his sword glinting eerily in the dim light. Her eyes tried to distinguish the features that were hidden within the darkness of the cowl. The flames suddenly leaped up with a roar, illuminating the man's face. His hair shined in the glow like a silver halo encompassing a surprising young face, unlined, ageless. The two stared at each other for a moment, clear emerald eyes meeting those copper ones filled with pain and sorrow.

"You…" The woman rasped, "…We are dead and now are here."

The child whimpered.

"Many are dead, I too am the only one left," He whispered, his eyes fluttered toward the child, pained.

"You said you would save us!"

"I did."

"Then keep your word," She hissed, her expression fierce. The pool of blood grew. "Kill him, kill the Rahls." She coughed again, weakening and desperate, "Protect my child."

He bent down and took her hands but all was silent again save the child. The child whimpered again, its arms reaching toward its mother. The man gently picked up the child. It was a she and she blinked at him solemnly with eyes just like that of her mother's: golden copper. He wrapped her up carefully, quieting her.

It was time to leave the field of death behind and move forward.

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><p>The Timeless<p>

A lone leaf strays across a worn path, marked by countless feet that trudged through the desolate mountain pass. The leaf stops in its tracks, blocked up against a weathered boot, straining in vain with the wind, trying to resume its journey across the path. After a few seconds of struggle, it surrenders, and drops limply amongst its cousins and brethren. An amused eye glances at the leaf, a rough, callused hand delicately picks it up, gently tracing the veins on the leaf, admiring it in all its glory, dressed in phoenix feathers, with vibrant reds and dazzling golds. With a sigh, the hand lefts go of the leaf, the wind twirling it and carrying the leaf across the path.

Autumn, his favorite season, was just past its apex, but the chilly grasp of winter already started to close in on the frigid mountains of the Westlands. The cold, however, no longer troubled him. His fingers, though callused, were as dexterous as before, and perhaps even more so. His face, sporting a bright smile, and twinkling eyes; and though his youthful face cried, "Inexperience! Inexperience!" out loud to whoever that would look, it was far from the truth. Wise in knowledge and in the ways of the world, he lived to see empires built, and empire crumble, wars waged and lost; old enough to see the sky fall, many times over. Wounds that he acquired fix and heal over time: shattered knees, a broken heart, retardation; aside from a jagged scar that ran from above right the eye to the hollow of his cheek, but still on he went, through prophecies, firestorms, and Armageddon. A Keeper, seeking those worthy of his attention. Wandering from one end of the world to the other, and back again. Unaffected by worldly events... For he is the Timeless.

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><p><em>R&amp;R Guys =3 questions, comments, concerns, and helpful flames. Will reply to all in next update.<em>


	2. Blood

_A/N: I don't own anything... sadly_

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><p>Getting a Lil Bloody<p>

He sat under a wayward pine, leaning comfortably against the trunk, his seat, a dais of comfortable leaves that he had scavenged from nearby. Every night, he set about doing his daily rituals; cleaning and polishing his "charges". Not that they needed any cleaning. No, for they were crafted from he finest oak, carved by the most renowned artisans, and smithed using steel chosen above all others for their flexibility and strength, using the fiery forges underneath the Wizard's Keep itself. Then, they were cooled in the River Palisades, which ran out to the forges and is believed to contain magical properties, and lastly, enchanted by the wizards of the old.

"Ah," he sighed as he reminisced to himself on the creation of these beauteous juggernaut weapons. First can the Sword of Truth, blade shining like the stars, hilt wrapped in gold wire. He carefully retrieved the red-hot blade from its place in the lava bed. Adding the last touches, he dunked the finished blade into the River Palisades, sending a plume of steam and releasing a whiff of ozone into the air. Then, the hilt was crafted onto the blade using gold wire as well, with the word TRUTH, and then buried to the hilt in pristine sorcerer's sand, with more spread around the mound in an enormous circle. Gathered around the perimeter of the mass of wizard's sand were the wizards of the old, all of them of the first order, dressed in plain robes.

At an unseen signal, the wizards all took out an ornate curved dagger from their sleeve, and made a deep wound on the inside of their forearm. Soft gasps and hissing escaped from behind clenched teeth as blood flowed freely. Quickly, they knelt and dipped their fingers into the wound and started drawing symbols. Their fingers quickly crusted with blood and sand. Some, when their fingers crusted over, impassively switched fingers. Others quickly grew pale of blood loss. When a wizard fainted, a backup wizard swiftly stepped over the fainted wizard's body, make a gash and began to draw, effectively taking the fainted wizard's place as medicos tended to the fainted and the stricken. Some never moved again.

After the last stroke was finished, the symbols appeared on the flat of the sword in immeasurable amounts with a red glow. As the symbols began to disappear, the blood also drained from the sand, in turn, giving the blade a faint crimson hue that slowly faded. After a long, painful silence, the wizards burst into cheers, while others let out a deep breath they didn't realize they have been holding in.

The processes of creating the rest of the weapons were on a smaller scale than the one used to imbue the Sword of Truth with its magical properties. Many lives were given to the task.

An episode of howling and snarling suddenly erupted in the distance, breaking him off from his thoughts. It was quickly followed by shrieking; human and nonhuman both. Dirk tensed and swiftly strapped a pair of daggers on the outside of his arm. The daibujin, a kind of scimitar, with the tip slightly tapered to a hook, was belted at the hip. The flat of the blade was imbued with spell forms, and glowed faintly. His hands held loosely onto his staff, which he held parallel to the ground, balancing easily on the balls of his feet.

Close by, a trio of enormous heart hounds erupted from the underbrush. As they rushed towards him, Dirk stood calmly, the only sign of anxiety was the slight shifting of weight from foot to foot. The hound in the lead bounded at him in enormous strides. When it lunged at him with incredible speed, Dirk simply step-sided, and smashed his staff at its middle. Cracks were heard as it was knocked away a few yards to the side. It did not get up again.

The surviving two hounds were more careful, hesitant. They slunk towards him from two directions, teeth bared. Dirk sharply twisted the shaft of his staff 90 degrees, and with a click, a razor sharp blade slid from the ends of the quarterstaff. Quickly, he swiped at each heart hound, but they retreated. The blades hummed in anticipation, and quivered with annoyance that its prey escaped its sharp edges. Huffing with exasperation, he dropped his sentimental staff and whipped out 2 knives, each from a special pocket on the forearm part of his sleeve. As fast as a striking cobra, he threw it at the heart hounds. One of the knives struck true, its point slicing through an eye of the heart hound. The other embedded itself into a tooth of the other canine. With a flick of his foot, the bladed staff jumped into his hand. Quickly, he advanced, spinning it as he went, blades a blur.

Exasperatingly, it slunk back, and all the while baring its teeth. A tugging started in his staff and quickly grew and a whining sound emanated from the blades, and quickly turned into shrieking. The hound crouched, body tense and readying itself to pounce. The steel blades began to glow an ominous red. It leapt, lunging for his throat.

When he couldn't hold on to the staff any longer, he quickly let go, the staff flying forward as if shot from a ballista. The blades screamed as it flew, and plunged into the hound's heart. As it entered, the shriek cut off abruptly, and Dirk felt goose bumps. A thin whine escaped, as wisps of its essence were sucked into the blade. The flesh and bones of the heart hound started shrinking and shriveling, until little that was left resembled the original creature.

Dirk quickly went to his pack and arsenal, took out a clean cloth, and started to clean his staff of the blood and innards. He then stood up and retrieved the knives that were thrown and wiped them of blood and slobber. Then, he put them back in their hiding places, weapons into their sheaths and retracted the blades of his staff. He picked up his stuff and left into the darkness of the night. He didn't stop again for the night.

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><p><em>AN #2: My friend's part will be up later today, or, as she says, at the end of the week if I don't watch this Batman movie... which means that it will be up at the end of the week ._

Friend: "Watch the movieee!"

_Me: No X_X_

~WHACK~

Friend: "WATCH THE MOVIE! A lot of people die..."

_Me: "That's a very good reason why I SHOULDN'T watch the movie."_ - runs away

added just now:_ and so now I'm watching the movie... . my friend is such a troll but i guess you can look forward to some more of the story._

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><p><em>In honor of our first reviewer, <strong>ilovekahlancara<strong>,we (mainly me 'cuz i didn't ask my friend) decided to give a sneak peek at a scene which will happen in the future =3 (its a fighting scene):_

_...the cloaked figure commenced his greatest assault. He parried a slash from the sword, pushing it aside, and stepped into range with the long knife. The tip of the knife flashed twice in the light; once pushing the sword away, and the second opening a shallow wound on the shoulder... [it] was nothing more than a scratch, but it bled. First blood was his... _

_...Seemingly with a vengence, the stranger swooped upon him with a fury. Block after parry after block, Richard found his hand quickly turning numb from the rain of blows. With a final block... Richard disengaged and fled towards the road..._

_...They met for one last time at the middle of the road, and ohh! how the heavens shook and how the earth quaked. He executed every trick, every maneuver, but found himself easily blocked... He was outmatched._

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><p><em>So how was it? Remember to review and PM and perhaps another sneak peek with be dedicated to YOU =3 Please take time to point out typos and faults in my syntax. Thanks everyone. Another note: This story has gotten 151 hits as of today and I'm a little bummed out that only <em><strong>ilovekahlancara <strong>reviewed, so, more reviews= faster updates_  
><em>

_signing out,_

_~Kev~  
><em>


	3. Gone With the Winds

_Sorry for the late update everyone D= As an apology for its tardiness, my friend's chapter will be extra long. For those of you wondering why **I** am post my friend's chapter, it's 'cuz she's a lazy bum ._

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><p>"Amber, get up! It's almost noon," a voice chided, pulling the covers off.<p>

Amber groaned and turned; keeping her eyes tightly shut and redrew her covers over her face.

The plump girl standing over the bed pursed her lips and crossed her arms.

"Amber…" she said warningly.

"Ten more minutes Amy," came the muffled reply.

"No! You have work to do," Amy said crossly. With one huge effort, she grabbed the covers and tugged, exposing the sleeping girl sprawled beneath. The girl was tall and lean, her mouth slightly ajar.

Amber sighed and finally sat up, her long curly brown hair as wild as a thorn bush, rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and finally opened them. Dark golden eyes peered blearily up at Amy and as always it was while before Amy could look away.

"What work is it now?" Amber grumbled, pulling on leather top and skirt decorated with small strands of eagle feathers and symbols of luck sewn into its edges.

"The mistress wants us to order food and send the last invites for the feast tonight," Amy replied watching Amber put on her boots. Finally done, Amber attempted to tame her hair, tying the sides back with a ribbon.

"She should do it herself," Amber muttered as she followed Amy out the door.

"Amber! She's the mistress and she is kind to us," Amy looked horrified.

Amber smiled crookedly and slapped Amy on the back making her wince.

"Cheer up Amy, I know…I know, it was a joke," Amber sighed. And she did know of the kindness the mistress had shown to them when she took them into her care after finding them half starved in the orphanage.

The girls started for the village, the sun beating hot upon their backs. They crossed a small creek; its water so clear that one can easily see the fish that swam lazily beneath and walked through a meadow where the grass reached their waist and rippled like the waves with the passing of the wind.

It was the afternoon before they finally reached the village with its lively stands and crowded roads.

"I'll order the food?" Amber asked. Amy nodded and disappeared down a narrow street.

"Excuse me," Amber mumbled as she pushed through the hoards of people and trying her best not to get run over by the carts that rumbled past. The people around her caught sight of her eyes and moved away, making gestures to ward off evil. She sighed. She was used to such responses; it was almost unheard of in their region to have eyes like hers. At least I have enough room to walk now she thought with dark humor.

She finally walked into a small building and blinked, adjusting to her dim surroundings.

"Hello there, what does Mistress Kalika wish from me today?" The man asked, smiling at her. His hair was beginning to gray and his stormy colored eyes twinkled.

"The Mistress's feast is today, Mr. Hensan " Amber reminded him with a returning smile. She liked him for he was the only one who would treat her normally.

"Ah yes! The feast, I will be there," He exclaimed, turning back to his work. He waved for Amber to come closer.

"What is it?" Amber asked curiously as she examined the small round globe resting on the table.

"A globe," Mr. Hensan answered proudly.

"I suppose it is," Amber returned, rolling her eyes, "But does it do anything?"

"Well yes," Mr. Hensan sounded generally surprised, "Look here."

He rubbed his hands eagerly like a small boy and his eyes practically sparkled as he bounced the globe in his hand and turned it over.

"You see the small hole here?" He asked. He carefully pulled at the globe and the bottom fell into his palm. Amber watched, fascinated, as he lit a match and poked it into the hole before pulling it out; the sphere now shone resplendently.

"Is it magic?" Amber gasped.

"No no, magic does not exist here." Mr. Hensan sounded amused. He placed the globe into her palm and closed her fingers around it. Amber looked up at him with surprise.

"Keep it, I can always make more," He said guiding her out, "It will go out after a while but you can always relight it. Just remember to wax the inside every month or so."

"Thank you,"

"I know it's a small thing but perhaps it will come in handy one day," Mr. Hensan said with a shrug.

Amber peeked at the globe every once in a while as she looked for Amy. Her heart felt warm for the first time in many days. It was also the first time that someone had given her a gift. Perhaps her parents did when she was young but she could no longer remember their faces. The memories of her childhood were like broken glass, only fragments remain, a shadow…fire.

"Amber, here!"

Amber looked around and grinned when she caught sight of Amy waiting for her by the side of the road.

"Did something happen?" Amy asked shrewdly noticing her improved mood as they started their way back.

"Nothing much,"

"Of course not," Amy replied drily, but she did not push the subject.

"Have you done everything you were asked?" Mistress Kalika asked when they returned, her voice musical.

"Yes mistress," They replied and bowed their heads.

"Good! Get ready for the feast then," She said approvingly, her delicate red lips curved upward in what seemed like a smile.

Always glad to please Mistress Kalika, Amy beamed. As Amy turned to leave, Amber saw Mistress Kalika look after Amy tenderly.

She saw Amber's gaze but quickly looked away. Amber's smile slipped. Despite all these years, it still hurt Amber that Mistress Kalika could not treat her as she did Amy.

The sky had darkened when the first guests began to arrive. The crickets had begun to sing and the trees were only shadows in the distance. Lanterns were hung around the house and they bathed the garden in a soft warm glow.

Amber squinted into the darkness, attempting to catch sight of Mr. Hensan's cart. The Mistress had sent her to fetch the food and bring it to the kitchen.

She saw a faint light bobbling closer and sprinted toward it.

"Mr. Hensan! Do you need any help?" She called as she approached. Silence answered her question. Amber stopped and peered closely at the approaching cart. It looked almost the same as Mr. Hensan's cart except for the strange symbol carved on its side and she realized that a black stallion pulled it.

The darkness seemed to shift and Amber realized that a driver was sitting in the front. He was shrouded in a black coat that had enabled him to blend in with the night. The light from the cart fell on him, his face seemed withered and the shadows that danced on his features only exaggerated it. Her eyes were drawn to his waist where a wickedly curved dagger hung. He caught her look and sneered, his eyes merciless.

"I'm sorry, I was-" Amber started but the look the driver gave her cut off her words. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle uncomfortably.

"Are you one of Mistress Kalika's?" He asked her in a gravelly voice.

"Yes I am," She replied. His eyes ran over her and she felt uncomfortable under his gaze.

"Amber!" A voice yelled from behind. She turned; glad to see Mr. Hensan with his donkey carrying what seemed to be sacks loaded with food.

"Come and give me a hand with these, it's heavy you know," Mr. Hensan continued, not taking his eyes off the stranger she had talked to. The stranger hmphed and Amber saw dislike flicker across his face.

"Fancy meeting you here Hensan,"

"It's been a while hasn't it?" Mr. Hensan answered shortly.

The man merely snorted and urged his horse faster in response, leaving behind a flurry of dust.

"He wasn't bothering you was he?" Mr. Hensan asked, looking after the stranger expressionlessly.

"I suppose not," She said, unsure. For some reason she had a bad feeling about the man.

Mr. Hensan raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak but shook his head instead.

"Since you have nothing to do you should help me with the food, Ulgran here is getting tired," He finally said, patting the donkey fondly.

"That was what I was going to do," Amber retorted and helped to unload as they approached the house. She noted the stranger's cart. Interesting, he's here for the feast as well, she thought to herself.

She picked up the first sack, almost dropping it, unprepared for the weight.

"What is in here? Rocks?" She grunted with effort.

Mr. Hensan grinned broadly as he tossed the rest of the bags to the ground with ease.

Amber half carried and half dragged the bags to the kitchen, dodging the bustling cooks.

She finally completed her task and resigned herself to spend the night in relaxation. Like other feasts, most people avoided her, but Amber was content to spend the night with Amy who welcomed her company. They chatted and watched the guests glide around the large ballroom. But Amber was always aware of the unwavering stare of the stranger from before. Whenever she looked at him, he would turn his face away but she knew that as soon as she turned her back, his eyes would be on her again.

"Who is that man that keeps on looking at you?" Amy asked, looking at the stranger from the corners of her eyes.

"I don't know," Amber sighed, if Amy had noticed, Amber knew it was a bad sign.

"Stay away from him, he looks awfully suspicious," She frowned. Amber smiled gratefully at her friend's concern.

"I will," Amber said.

"Hmm…I'll see if I can find anything out about him. Never seen him before," Amy muttered almost to herself. Before Amber could stop her, Amy slipped into the crowd. Amber shook her head ruefully; she knew that could not stand not knowing about something. She sat there for a while waiting for Amy's return. Amy, however, was nowhere in sight, and feeling increasingly lonely Amber began to search for someone to talk to.

She caught sight of Mr. Hensan sitting by himself, staring dejectedly at the dance floor.

"Bored?" She asked as she approached, jotting Mr. Hensan out of his thoughts.

"Oh no," He answered, "But I am wishing company."

They sat in a companionable silence for while before Mr. Hensan stood and offered her his hand.

"A dance, my lady?" He replied to her questioning glance and gave her a little bow, a smile tugging at his lips.

They walked into the center with the others and began to waltz, twirling through the crowd, unaware that they were capturing the attention of those around them; she in a violet dress and him in sparkling white shirt and surcoat of midnight blue.

The crowd had dispersed from the center of the room and they watched the strange pairing dance, many amazed by their grace and skill. When the song ended, they burst into cheers, Amber's suddenly felt her face becoming hot and Mr. Hensan coughed, embarrassed.

"Thank you," Amber said, not looking at Mr. Hensan's face.

"No, it was my pleasure," Mr. Hensan corrected, "It have been a long time since I danced and even longer since I had fun."

Amber could not keep a grin from breaking out and turned her face away instead, pretending to look for someone.

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><p>Amy pushed her way through the hoards of people, ignoring their complaints, intent on finding her friend. Where is she? She thought, her stomach seemed to twist with dread. She needed the find Amber <em>now<em> before it was too late.

"Do you have eyes? Watch where you're going," Someone snapped.

Amy ignored him and pushed ahead, slipping her hands into her pocket every once in a while to finger a small sack. She felt nauseous whenever she did. She had never stolen, especially not from the mistress. But today she had. It was never the mistress's, she told herself for the hundredth time but it did not make her feel any better. She had betrayed the mistress's trust.

Amy finally spotted Amber, standing awkwardly next to Mr. Hensan and sighed with relief. Something must have happened, Amy thought distractedly, noticing the rosy glow on Amber's cheeks.

"Amber!" She called, half sprinting toward them, tripping in her dress. Amber hurled her back to her feet before she hit the ground.

"Are you alright?" Amber asked her, supporting her until she signaled that that she was all right, "What happened?"

"Not here," Amy hissed, "Come." She grabbed Amber's hand and tried to drag her away. She felt Amber resist and pulled harder. Amber seemed unwilling to leave but came with her anyway.

"What happened?" Amber asked again with a frown as she was pulled through the halls. Amy did not answer but continued to pull her until they reached their room.

"Change to your normal clothing," Amy ordered as she began to pull items from the shelves, and throwing them into a bag. Amber content feeling faded and she felt the murky cloud in her mind scatter, she felt suddenly wide-awake. She did as she was told and then realized that Amy's hands were shaking.

"Amy?"

"I followed that man," Amy began, trying to keep her voice steady, "He left the room and went to that of the mistress's. I wasn't going to listen but then they mentioned your name…"

Amber felt her heart begin to pound, "You eavesdropped?"

Amy turned to face her; her eyes brimmed with tears, "Ye-yes."

"And then?"

"You were never in the orphanage with me." Amy answered.

Amber stared at her dumbfounded, "That's impossible! I still remember the orphanage and you!"

"Do you?" She asked, her light blue eyes seem to pierce Amber's, "I have memories of it as well. I remember how Paul used to get in trouble and how Ms. Darison used to beat him."

"Paul?" Amber asked uncertainly, trying to remember them.

"Yes, he died a while before the Mistress came. Do you remember that Amber?"

Why can't I recall? Amber thought, a feeling of dread making the world whirl in front of her eyes.

"…Or when the kids in the orphanage tried to run away…"Amy continued. Her voiced seemed to come from far away. Amber moaned and her ears with her hands, shutting her eyes tightly.

But I remember Amy, Amber thought frantically, I remember-. She froze as she realized that she did not. Memories of Amy, yes, but could it have been after Mistress Kalika adopted them? And the orphanage…she could only recollect a wooden structure, its windows broken almost laying in shambles…no one there.

Amber stood frozen as she tried to grasp the reminiscences of the past. Every time she reached for them, they slipped just beyond her fingertips. Panic tightened its hold on her and she felt cold sweat dampening her back.

"Why would I think that I was from the orphanage?" She asked Amy lifelessly. But deep inside she knew the reason.

" I used to wonder why I didn't remember you," Amy said quietly, "But the mistress used to tell me what we did on the day she came to take us here. I thought I must've have forgotten and was guilty of it…I convinced myself that you were there."

Amber nodded mutely, staring dully at the ground; her hands limp by her side. Amy felt a lump in her throat and squeezed Amber's shoulders.

"It'll be all right," Amy murmured, her voice catching. She hated to see her friend this way and she knew that her next words would cause Amber great pain.

"She lied to us? What if my life has been a lie?" Amber asked, her eyes desperately searching Amy's. She did not feel like she could trust her thoughts any longer, were they her own thoughts or some conjured tales whispered to her by another?

"Amber no! Don't think like that," Amy pleaded, "They are real, trust me, trust yourself." They heard the sound of approaching footsteps and quieted, looking at each other with wide eyes.

"Amy…Amber?"

It was the voice of the mistress. They heard a cough and a second voice speaking softly, the mistress had company. Amy closed her hand on Amber's mouth and motioned for her to stay silent. Amy grabbed the bag, half full with the items she had begun to pack and shoved it with themselves into the closet just in time.

The door clicked and opened, both girls holding their breaths and hearing the loud pounding of their hearts. There was a moment of silence and both girls peeked out of the keyhole expectantly.

They watched as the mistress entered, her long flowing dress sparkling with rare gems, picking her way delicately among the various items scattered among the floor. She wrinkled her nose and turned back to speak to someone outside.

"They must not have yet returned," She said, her dark eyes looking around. Her eyes lingered on the closet door and both girls shrank back and she approached, her pearl white hands reaching for the handle.

"Don't worry my dear, she's probably still there," A gravelly voice said. Amber could have sworn that her heart almost leapt out of her throat. It was the stranger.

The Mistress's hands stopped and she moved away. Amber heard a breath of relief from Amy. But Amber could only feel numbness and betrayal.

"Still there? I did not think she knew anyone," Mistress Kalika sounded surprised.

"She knew of Hensan," The stranger growled out his name.

"Hensan…that meddler? I invited him out of pity," Mistress Kalika scoffed.

"He looks over the child like her father. I wonder what his reaction will be when he find her gone," The stranger chuckled.

"The money first," Mistress Kalika reminded him.

"Yes, yes, of course. I'll have it in gold for you tomorrow," he breathed drawing Mistress Kalika towards him. Mistress Kalika battered her eyelashes at him and seemed to press herself onto him. Amber gagged finding the sight sickening.

The Misress shut the door and they heard them retreating until it was quiet again. Amy pushed open the closet door and they practically fell from the cramped space onto the floor.

"How could she?" Amber gasped, her mind in a whirl, "She's selling me to him like a- like a—" She couldn't finish the sentence; like a _slave_.

"I heard him asking about you. She told him that she had picked you up in the woods next to here, holding this," Amy dug her hand into her pocket and pulled out a small leather bag, giving it to Amber.

Amber examined the bag mutely and pulled it open. A stone dropped out onto her palm, the size of a small sparrow egg. It is many crystalline faces glittered under the dim candlelight. She squinted at it for unlike anything she had ever seen. The stone felt smooth and cold under her fingers, its seemingly transparent surface glowed with a red hue. She blinked; something seemed to flicker in the core of the stone, something like flames. She cupped it in her hands, away from the light, but it did not shine in the dark. Yet it reminded her of the globe Mr. Hensan had given her and something stirred within her, something familiar, but it was gone before she noticed.

"…You have to go,"

"What?" Amber asked, looking up at Amy blankly.

Amy sighed and started again, "They're going to try and get you again and already have a plan in case you run; you have to get out of here."

"But where do I go?" Amber asked, bewildered and lost. Everything was happening too fast.

"Ask Mr. Hensan for help, but get away from here, far away. That man is dangerous, the guests say he is a blade master. The best from here," Amy said, throwing the last of the items into the bag, tightened and handed it to Amber.

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine, Amber. A few more years and I'll leave here and find a place of my own. Don't worry about me."

Amber opened her mouth to speak but felt her breath catch. She wiped at her eyes, feeling the teardrops on the back of her hand.

Amy saw Amber's shoulder shaking and hugged her tightly. Amber began to sob.

"I'll miss you," Amber mumbled, hiding her face in Amy's long blond hair.

"I'll miss you too, silly," Amy whispered, patting Amber awkwardly on the back with one hand.

They pulled back and looked at each other wordlessly; Amy stared into her friend's golden eyes one last time.

"I'll find you," Amy promised.

Amber gave her a teary smile, opened the door, and vanished, leaving Amy's heart feeling heavy behind her.

Amber made her way cautiously through the corridors and outside of the main hall. She peeked through the entrance and saw Mr. Hensan talking with a guest. Mistress Kalika and the stranger were on the opposite side of the room.

Amber bit her lips and tried to decide what to do. She needed help to escape, it was night and she could not walk long. She was sure that the stranger would just run her down but she did not want to place Mr. Hensan in danger. She realized that Mistress Kalika had been right; Mr. Hensan was like a father to her. He was the only one next to Amy who she had ever trusted and he always treated her with respect and care. She put her hands in her pocket and felt the smooth surface of the globe he had given her earlier. No, I can't put him in danger, she decided.

She turned to leave but felt the stranger's eyes on her. She cursed silently under her breath; she had been seen. Trying to act normal, Amber began walking the opposite direction, not looking back. Feeling the stranger following her, she increased her pace. Almost there, she thought, her heart hammering in her chest.

Finally Amber burst outside. Her hopes sank as she caught sight of someone standing next to a black stallion that tossed its head at the man's touch.

"Going somewhere?" He asked, almost lazily, his hand slipped toward his waist.

Amber backed up and tripped over the first step of the manor, falling on her behind heavily.

The man walked toward her, twirling his knife; it glinted with a pale light.

Amber scrambled backwards using her hands and feet, kicking up gravel. The man smiled coldly. She gasped out with fright; her breathing heavy with fear.

"Don't be frightened my child," He purred, "I won't kill you, oh no. That would be such a waste…"

She bumped into something and she looked back wildly. It was the wall and she was trapped.

"I'll just curve a few marks into you!" He snarled the last words, the knife curved upward. Time seemed to slow as the knife began its downward strike.

She opened her mouth to scream.

The sound of steel on steel echoed through the silence of the night. The stranger's eyes widened as his knife was stopped. A figure had stepped in front of Amber, protecting her.

"Mr. Hensan," She croaked, dazed that she had missed death by inches and frightened for him. She could see by the way the stranger carried himself that he was no swordsman to mess with.

The two men circled each other, eyes calculating.

"Hensan..the meddler," The stranger hissed.

"Amber, get up and stay behind me," Mr. Hensan murmured, ignoring the stranger's words. Amber picked herself up clumsily, obeying Mr. Hensan's directions. Her legs shook and she had trouble breathing correctly.

"It'll be all right," Mr. Hensan reassured her, never taking his eyes off his opponent.

The stranger lunged forward and Mr. Hensan sidestepped, grabbing Amber's arm at the same time.

"Run!" He yelled as he pulled her with him. They raced through the garden, the stranger hot on their tracks. Mr. Hensan stopped suddenly and with Amber, dodged behind the wall. They heard the stranger slow down, the leaves crackling under his foot.

"Coward!" The stranger yelled, his voice echoed. Amber closed her eyes and felt the stranger moving away.

Mr. Hensan bent close to her ear and murmured softly, "I'm sure that he'll be by the horses. Listen to me and follow my words."

Amber nodded in response.

"We need to sneak toward the horses, but stay hidden. We need as much time as possible. When you reach the entrance, run for his horse, I will help you," He continued.

"He'll kill you," Amber whispered, horrified, "I can't..."

Mr. Hensan raised his eyebrows and gave her a mysterious smile, "Do you think I am really that bad with a knife?"

"But you just-"Amber stuttered.

"Yes, yes. I just ran away. But there are some things I must tell you first," His face became serious. "I did not know of your mother but I did know of the man who brought you here."

Amber stared at him, "He abandoned me."

"No…Yes…He asked me to protect you but I knew I could not. I was a wanted man Amber…I have changed," Mr. Hensan said, he looked sad, "I knew Mistress Kalika was coming through the woods that day so I decided to leave you there. I watched as she saw you and took you. I do not believe you will forgive me nor do I deserve it."

Amber sat for a moment, absorbing what he had said. It was too much, she felt as if her world was about to shatter. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on her inner self, visualizing a peaceful lake. Calm, she thought to herself.

"I forgive you," She finally said quietly. Mr. Hensan looked at her with surprise.

"I was happy with Amy and though Mistress Kalika never loved me she took care of us," She met Mr. Hensan's gaze, "And you watched over me too, didn't you?"

Mr. Hensan nodded mutely. "Yes…but I wish I did not…" He did not finish, a look of pain had came across his face. He shook his thoughts away and took a deep breath.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked, meeting her eyes. She nodded, fear has lost its grip and determination had taken its place.

"And Mr. Hensan… thank you."

They sneaked back the way they came from; weary that the stranger would catch them off guard. As Mr. Hensan had predicted the stranger was there by the entrance.

"I'll go first. As soon as he is distracted…" He trailed off as he spun his knife, his attention now totally focused on the stranger.

He gave a battle cry and charged from the hiding place. The stranger was ready and they began to fight. Amber watched as Mr. Hensan dodged and lunged, his movements a blur. His skills were no less than that of the stranger's.

Just what did he do in his youth, Amber wondered as she crept closer and closer to the entrance way.

"NOW!" Mr. Hensan yelled and Amber began to sprint for dear life. The stranger looked back, amazement reflected in his eyes. He deflected Mr. Hensan's blade and gave chase. But she was faster.

With one huge leap she was on top of the black stallion. It reared almost throwing her off. She could see the stranger from the corner of her eyes, coming closer. She fiddled with the straps that tied it to the cart. The stranger was almost on top of her now. She shouted with the triumph as the strap loosened and fell away. The stranger's hands were upon her, forcing her back. She barred her teeth and jerked fiercely. She was free. She kicked the horse with her heels and she was off, racing down the road, barely able to see what was ahead of her.

She heard a scream and looked back, a figure stood over the other, the handle of the hilt protruding from his chest. She could not distinguish who had fallen in the darkness. With a fleeing glance, she drove the horse on to where ever the winds will take them.

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><p><em>So, does Mr. Hensan sound like a pedophile? And, did you know my friend first named Amy Kara? How original right? -.-" Again, sorry for the wait guys and gals. The next chapter will be up tomorrow.<em>

~Kevin

_Ignore Kevin's comment about Hensan being a pedophile =.=...Anyway enough from the authors ..._

~Rice

_You're supposed to use underline . I called dibs on italics! _

~Kev


	4. Kamakazi

**_Kamakazi_**

Dirk stood at the banks of a river, frowning at his reflection on the water's surface. His last encounter with the heart hounds nearly crumpled his best tunic and ruined his favorite pants. From his bag, he retrieved a matching pair of light, black pants, comfortable for travel, and a shirt with drawstrings at the sleeves. Then, he traded his cape for a sturdy, yet lightweight hooded cloak, which doubled as a hammock (for one will never know where they will stop for the night). After changing, he folded the pants and tunic, and stored it away in his enchanted bag. He wrapped the cloak around himself to ward off the early chill, and of course, to maintain a level of mysteriousness.

He peered into the swiftly moving water. A disapproving face in the water gazed back, lined with two scars; one ran from his forehead, through his right eye, and ended directly below his cheekbone, put there many a years ago by a fortuitous cut from an enchanted blade. Another more recent scar he obtained from a stray arrow ran horizontally on the opposite cheek. As he raised a hand to finger he scar as he often did, the rippling figure in the water mimicked him perfectly. He caught himself and picked up his bag and staff, following the water downstream.

Before he had taken a single step, however, his head spun and his vision blurred. When it all cleared out, there was a tugging sensation in his gut. Dirk inhaled a deep breath, breathing in the scents of the river and forest intermingled. It has been years since any of charges has chosen a bearer and initiated the sequence of feelings he halfheartedly dubbed as "the call of prophecy" or of "destiny," not his destiny, but the other individuals'.

"They better not die before I reach them," he scowled.

The last person a weapon bonded to met an unfortunate end before Dirk reached him. The backlash was not pretty to say the least. After the person died, Dirk reeled as if recoiling from an invisible punch to the face. Immediately, it was followed by extreme vomiting, and a pressure- like force being applied to the chest area. Not pretty at all.

He was bonded with the creations he carried, and was not their true owner, but their carrier, and wielder in the most extreme of conditions. The weapons bond to certain people whenever they undergo certain circumstances, which can be best compared to prophecy, for in another fork of a prophecy, a person will make different choices, and will undergo different circumstances.

He closed his eyes and followed the tugging. Its path slowly diverged from the river; he can smell the scents of the forest gradually crescendo-ing and heart the burbling of the river slowly receding. He took another step forward… and

*WHAM*

He smacked into a tree. Frowning, Dirk took a step back and almost comically with wind- milling arms, fell flat on his back. He ruefully got back on his feet, dusted himself off, and began to follow the feeling again, only this time, with his eyes open.

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><p>He cut through the Upper Ven, walking farther and farther from the boundary, straying from the paths and roads. The tugging he felt in his gut led him onward without pause, bringing him to the outskirts of Hartland, and which he slowly realized, also in the direction of Trunt Lake. He was puzzled, however, for no-one lived near the lake and deduced that the person would likely be a traveler passing through the area. Nearing the shores of Trunt Lake, he spotted a young man outfitted for hiking the woods, leaning against a boulder, panting. The man turned his head to the sides slightly, unfocused eyes raking at the trees near where he was, or... his eyes were focused to the distance at Trunt Lake. The man suddenly crouched and started sprinting down the path.<p>

Disregarding the man for just a moment, he scanned the area where the man was facing, and was facing the exact same scene what he assumed the man was. There was a woman, a woman in a dress. There were four men, in hooded forest cloaks, shadowing her, but hanging back some distance. They moved stealthily, from tree to rock to tree. A quad. And from the looks of them, pureblooded Dharans. His gut feeling was pulling him towards the woman, as if they were connected by a unbreakable line.

He made an immediate decision to follow the men. He crept along behind them, moving silently, drifting from one shadow to another. As the sun rose higher, crawling to its pinnacle on its journey in the sky, the road became rockier; the footing more treacherous. The four men suddenly veered off the path, sprinting into the forest, abandoning all previous attempts at stealth. Dirk followed silently, but quickly, following the path of carnage the men left by blundering through the bushes; snapped branches, trampled leaves and patches of tall grass and other plants marked the way, and gently pushing past broken branches, not letting them out of his sight or hearing, while a part of his mind was paying attention to the tugging in his gut.

The path these men followed was slightly leading them away from the woman, but the meandering forest road would soon intersect their paths. Traveling directly through the forest allowed the quad to close in on the woman, and maybe buy them enough time to get into position for an ambush. Quickly, the tugging grew stronger, meaning soon, the trap will be laid.

Up ahead, the quad grounded to a halt. A man; the leader it seemed, gave some hand gestures, probably commands, and sprinted forward with another following. The two men left, turning right. Dirk ran the scene through his head, and quick conclusion; he would follow the leader. Following the tracks the leader's heavy build made, he saw a rope tied to a gnarled tree on the side, and stopped in his tracks. What had been grass and mud gave way to solid stone and … thin air. He tentatively peered off the edge. It was an old footpath cut into the side of the sheer cliff who- knows- how- many years ago, and barely wide enough to support two people to walk side by side. Turning his head, he saw the Dharans in his peripheral vision rounding a corner, and disappearing. Following the edge, he slowly slunk forward. Squinting, he spotted the man along with the woman who was chosen. Somehow, he managed to convince her to follow his plan, however foolish it may have been, since it involved leading her to this bleak and precarious mountain path. Then again, the woman probably didn't have many options to choose from.

As the leader turned the corner, the man and woman turned, as if making to run, but quickly stopped when the other two dropped from the cliff.

"You may pass, boy," he heard the man grunt. The voice was rough, uncultured and uncivilized. "Our business is with the girl."

He picked up the man whispering something with his acute hearing, but could not discern what was said, and was too far away to read Richard's lips even with his heightened eyesight.

"Be on your way, boy." The man's voice was harder, filled with steel. "Last time offered."

"We will both be passing." Dirk chuckled to himself. The boy was brave, but like his plan, foolhardy.

"Not on this day," came a callous reply.

Soon after, ringing of steel resonated throughout the air as swords and daggers cleared sheathes. When battle cries sounded, he made his move. Dirk swung down the cliff behind the leader, and landed on his feet, and quickly tucked into a roll. Wasting no time, he ran towards the fray, somersaulting over the heads of the group and landing near the woman. She was his priority. While still in the air, there was thunder with no sound. When he landed, he quickly worked his jaw, and turned to look at the woman.

Blue eyes met green. Deducing from how wide her eyes were, she probably had an inkling of a guess to who he is. Breaking off the connection, he grabbed the nearest closest unfortunate man. With a twist and a push, he ran the Dharan through on the sword of the man beside him. With a flourish, he pulled the Dharan off the sword and hurled him off the side of the cliff.

He turned to the next member of the quad, palming a dirk. Ducking underneath the wild swing of the short sword, he punched the man in the solar plexus, the spun one-eighty degrees, and while crouching, slammed the dirk in an upwards slant, directly underneath the man's armpit, slicing a major artery. Dirk grabbed the Dharan by one of his numerous buckles and chucked him down the cliff with the first.

He turned to the leader, just in time to see Richard grab the leader's wrist and the knife hurtling towards Richard. Without a second thought, Dirk sprinted towards the last member of the quad. With a great leap, he tackled the leader, sending them both hurtling off the side into the boulders below.

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><p><em>Cliffhanger! =) my favorite. What do you think will happen to Dirk =O? I think next chapter I will include some history into the characters.<em>

_Until the next update,_

_Kev_


	5. The Right Thing to Do

Hey guys! So, so, so, so, so, so, so... Xyz∞ so's (for those who can't see it its X^ YZ∞ )... sorry that this update is late. My friend insists that I must write first because my part comes before hers. Pffft to that I say. I planned on updating yesterday, but I got caught up in some... stuff... that I will no elaborate on. *glares at friend*

*friend glares back*

_And yesterday I was planning on updating early but unfortunately my allergies acted up. For those of you who have allergies, you know how painfully annoying it is, and for those of you guys that don't, be glad. I swear, I'm getting old. Not a good thing._ *shudders*

*warbling sound like in charlie brown*

_What? No, of course not as old as you (emphasis on you)._

*friend leaves*

Rice: I HAVE A NAME YOU KNOW!

***_Rice_** comes back with a book*

***Whack!***

_Oww! OK older than you! *mumbles* which doesn't prove anything_

***Whack***

_Yes, yes! You're very young now leave me alone!_

Rice:"On with the story!" -continues whacking with book-

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><p>It was as everyone says and believed. Time was slowing down as he dropped down the cliff. The man that Dirk had just tackled's eyes were wide, as if unbelieving that he was on the road one moment, about to take a man's life and the next, flying off the edge of a cliff, plummeting to his death hundreds of feet below. Slowly, the man's mouth shifted from a perfect "O" of disbelief, and emitted an inhuman scream. The many beads of slight perspiration that condensed on his face fled into the air, and drifted away from them.<p>

Time suddenly caught up with them, their cloaks whipped at them, and slapped at them, as if a single entity, jading its apetite for cruelty by indulging wholeheartedly in torturing him. The cracking of the wind tearing through fabric resonated in the air around them like a consecutive, never-ending series of thunderclaps, shaking bones and rattling teeth. Plummeting through the air like a stone, they had passed the one-third mark of their journey to the boulders at the bottom of the cliff, which looked cold, hard, and heartless, promising nothing but an everlasting meeting with the Keeper, and not enough to scrape off the surface of the boulder for even a half- decent burial.

Grimacing at the morbid thought, he twisted and ripped the cloak that was flapping around him off with one hand. With the other, Dirk tried to position his feet on the most stable object near him; the Dharan's ribcage, which wasn't very stable at all, considering his current predicament. But it was all he needed. In a crouching position "on top" of the Dharan, he grabbed the ends of his cloak, and prayed to the Creator that it was enough.

By this time, the distance was cut by one- half, and the treetops were very close indeed. The treacherous road that was cut into the side of the mountain seemed like a safe haven; like the place were the Creator was. Dirk took a deep breath, and "jumped" as hard as he ever did, hoping it would slow down his descent, however much imperceptable. He recalled a saying his old master always told him, "Any action has an equal, but opposite reaction."

Oops.

As he pushed off, cracks were heard, over the screaming of the wind, the direct result of Dirk breaking the ribs of the Dharan. Grimacing, he spread out his cloak like a parachute, trying to catch as much wind as he could. The blink of an eye later, he heard a crash behind and below him. He grimaced again; it was the sound of the Dharan teaming up with gravity versus the ground. No doubt the ground won.

In an epiphanic moment, he nearly laughed. He remembered a paradox an old crone once asked him many years ago. In his mind's eye, Dirk could see the mess the man made, crash landing into the ground like that. He pitied the man to whom the cleanup bill was sent; unless it was Darken Rahl, which it probably was a voice in a remote corner of his mind whispered. He sincerely hoped it wasn't right. Or maybe, it would be good if Darken Rahl had to pay for the cleanup- to empty out his pockets. His mind spun with complications, so he shoved the thoughts from his mind.

When Dirk was close enough to grab a tree branch, he let go of the makeshift parachute with one hand, and grabbed the tree branch, hoping the branch was enough to hold his weight and his instincts telling him it wasn't.

His instincts were right.

It snapped like an oversized twig, which of course, it was in a way. He tumbled down the tree, scratched by the branches, whipped by the leaves, and still, trying to find a stable branch to grab on to. When he finally did, his arm was nearly jerked out of its socket. Looking down, and expecting to see more branches, Dirk only saw the ground a mere few inches from his feet, luckily for him. Dropping to the ground and collapsing, he moaned, moaned for the people that he killed, but probably would still have died anyways, and moaned for the suffering he had seen. Moaned for the bruises that no doubt would appear tomorrow and for the perfectly good pair of clothes that were hanging practically in shreds from his shoulders.

He sighed a heart- heavy sigh. For the second time in half as many days, he was on his back again. He rolled over and assessed his injuries. They weren't extreme, mere scratches at the most. He changed into another pair of the same exact clothing, and searched for some plants to allieviate the discomfort, and an analgesic to speed up the process of healing. After, he swung his bag onto his back and squared his shoulders. It was time to search out an old friend.

The last time Dirk had heard any whispers from the wind of the man he was searching was nigh on two decades ago. He had heard the man settled down near Hartland, so he decided to seek him, and if Dirk couldn't find him there, then he will just have to sniff the man out. With that thought, he set out, not knowing what to expect.

Not too far Hartland, he came across a small house, with flower boxes on the front, and tall grasses around the house. Two trees; saplings really, peaked juxtaposed over the top of the ragged turf covered roof, shy and timid, one taller than the other, giving the house a setting of trying to sink into the surround forest, or at least, a sense of camouflage. A vine covered chimney poked through the roof, crooked, as if a seedling, reaching towards the sun. A slow, and steady of smoke trickled from it, and slowly dispersed into the sky. Closing in on the house, he put on the cowl of his cloak. With one hand, he lifted the staff, and banged on the bright blue door with one end.

"Coming," he heard, followed by a series of shuffling footsteps.

The door opened to reveal a bone thin, aged man.

"Richard, the cloud-," the man began, then quickly cut off, face turning dark. He made a pushing motion with both spindly hands.

Dirk cleared his mind, and imagined that a wall of hurrican forced winds coming straight at him quickly dissapated into a warm, spring breeze, and instead of a barrier of fury slamming into him, he felt a mild wind pass, slightly rippling his cloak.

The old man's eyes betrayed only a flicker of shock, then narrowed. He brought his hands together and the embers of a fire quickly appeared and grew. Wizard's Fire. Dirk wasn't fazed, although contacting even a spark would be painful. He took a step forward and thrust the end of his staff into contact with the growing ball of fire. He imagined a furiously burning coal on a sandy beach with a rising tide. Waves of cool, salty water continuously smashed at the coal, but quickly, and it lost energy to the water, sending up clouds of steam, reduced to a black, smoking heap. The Wizard's Fire was snuffed out.

The old man sigh, leaning on the doorframe, then wearily waved a hand at Dirk, beckoning him to go into the house. He went in, and sat on a rickety chair.

"Please understand my caution," the old man started. "I had to make certain that it was you, since there hasn't been anyone alive in recent history that can counter magic in your way. And, the last time I heard from you was the news that you had commited suicide by jumping off a cliff. I should have know that not even death can stop you." He reddened as blood rushed quickly to his face.

"I realize that you must feel animosity against me, however, when I left you, I knew that the Midlands was in good hands. Also, I knew that I had taught you everything that I can, and there was nothing else I could have taught you. If you were not ready then, then you would never have been ready to face Panis Rahl by yourself.

The old man humphed, but the last statement took the fire out of his eyes, and he calmed down. "Well what is it, Castranova? I take it that this isn't a pleasure visit. You never do something without cause."

"I am _extremely _offended, Zorander," Dirk Castranova said, not really sounding offended. "Can't I visit a friend for old times sake?"

The man, Zorander, rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

"I admit that you do know me quite well. However, this time I am here only here for a visit, and … and maybe chat about some happenings."

The man started suddenly, as if awaking suddenly from a nap. "How did you find me through the web?"

Dirk smirked. "A little bird told me."

"Unlikely," the man said, harrumphing.

"Well… you are right about that. I do suppose it wouldn't hurt giving out one of my secrets once in a while," Dirk said thoughtfully, after a pause. "Truth is, right after the boundary came up, I searched out where you would be living, right before you wove the wizard's web and traveled across the boundary. Knowingly you like the back of my hand, I figured that you wouldn't move around, even if it was a few decades. Recently, the boundary has become weaker, and does not go all the way up, so if one can fly high enough…"

"One can fly over the boundary," the man finished.

"Exactly. I crossed the High Ven earlier today, and spotted a gar. You might expect a visit from them sometime soon.

"Gars," the old man spat. "Rahl's beasts. I can deal with them when they come."

"Don't be too sure. Also, I have some new that may interest you greatly. Rahl's quads have struck once more. They were following a lady in a dress." Dirk left out any other descriptions of the woman, knowing that he would get an over-reaction. "A man caught up with her, and convinced her to go with him. He led her to that narrow trail on the side of the mountain, where the quad struck."

"Did you get a clear look at the man?"

"Brown hair, in his twenties," Dirk all but recited. "He was wearing cloathing suited for the woods; looked like a woods guide."

Zorander paled. "Richard," he said, half whispering.

"No worries," he replied. "I managed to get there in time. Richard, you call him; he kicked one member of the quad off the trail. I killed two other men; now they're at the bottom too, and tackled the leader off.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he sternly shook a bony finger at Dirk. "Scare me like that again and I will throw you back down the cliff." Getting up, he shuffled to a table in his kitchen. "I don't have anything hot right now, but I do have some fruits at hand."

"An apple will do, thanks," Dirk replied. The wizard Zorander lobbed an apple at him, and he deftly caught it, and took a great, crunching bite out of the apple.

"How did you chance upon seeing the lady, may I ask?"

"One of the weapons I carry chose her-"

"Ahh yes. The so-called "mythical" choosing!" He flourished his arm in the air, tracing out an arc, sparks fizzling from his fingertips.

"Damn it, Zorander! The choosing isn't of my choice and you know it!" Dirk slammed the butt of his staff on the ground.

The old man sighed. "No, I suppose not."

"So how's it going with you? Any lady caught your eye recently? Creator knows how many great- grandchildren you have now, knowing how long you've been alive."

"I've been wandering near the boundary these years, ever since it came up, turning everyone I see away from it, the only exceptions being the boundary wardens. And you know very well that I only have one."

A stifling silence evolved between them.

"Thank you for everything," Dirk said, slapping his knee and standing up.

"No, thank you, for helping Richard, and for all you did to help save the Midlands," the antediluvian man said.

"This Richard of yours; what's your relationship to him?" Dirk asked.

"I have known him for a very long time. He- he is a dear friend and I love him like a son," came the halting reply.

"I hear the truth in your words," Dirk said thoughtfully, nodding, "but I have a feeling that it is not all. Does not matter. Every man should have their own little secrets for that is a characteristic of man… He got up and patted his old friend on the shoulder, then went out the door.

"Wait! I finally remembered a question I meant to ask you all these years ago, but always forgot to. Why did you choose to help the Midlands over your relations?" Zorander called.

"Because you don't know the whole truth, my whole story," Dirk said, barely audible. A also because it was the right thing to do."

* * *

><p><em>So how is it? <em>

_The paradox is: What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?_

_There are some SAT vocabulary in there to improve both my vocabulary for the SATs =) and in a way yours. For the ones I include, I will type their meanings at the end of each chapter._

_~Kev_

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><p><em>Analgesic- n. something that reduces pain<em>

_Antediluvian- adj. ancient_

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><p><em>Any commentary is welcome, whether to say the story is bad (if it is, please give some suggestions), or even a comment saying update sooner!<em>


	6. Bags and More Bags

_SOSOSO SRRY GUYS THIS IS MY FRIEND"S CHAPTER and its late for like a week cuz she is too lazy to post it... and the fact that there was so many mistakes in it... No joke there were more holes in it than Swiss cheese -.-_

* * *

><p>The black stallion gave a weary whine and looked back at Amber pitifully. Her heart melted as she looked into its large brown watery eyes and then patted its soft nose with a sigh. It was dark and she was tired, the stallion was tired, but they couldn't afford to stop. She had heard the sound of hooves behind her for a day now, never seeing the pursuer. Yet she did not dare to find out who it was.<p>

She bit her lips and squinted into the distance. The long grass weaved its soft fingers about their legs and whispered around her. The night sky was like mosaic; a large full moon surrounded by her glittering guards illuminating the wild flat prairie that seemed to stretch on forever. The wind whistled and the grass rippled; silver under the starlight. Amber had never seen such a majestic sight, nor had she felt so lonely and insignificant.

Amber glanced back warily, swaying gently with stallion's motion, searching for their pursuers. She blinked as something shifted in the corner of her vision. It vanished so quickly that could not be sure that she did not imagine it. She reined in the stallion and closed her eyes, breathing evenly. Her surroundings seem to sharpen and clear in her mind's eye. The fresh tang of summer grass, the murmur of the crickets…and there—the sound of hooves muted by the soft green earth. She bit her lips and urged the stallion into a quicker pace. It snorted unwillingly, shaking its long mane, lengthening its pace grudgingly.

An eerie howl shattered the night, rising to pitch before fading slowly away; silencing the nightlife and sending a shiver down Amber's spine. The stallion rolled its eyes nervously and Amber felt stallion's muscles tighten with tension.

The shadows alongside of the quivered and something slinked between the foliage, its movements a blur. Amber whirled around, her eyes frantically trying to decipher the creature. Another whimper and then a low inhuman chuckle emitted from their surroundings. She could feel the creatures stalking them, watching them, bidding their time. A rustle here and a flickering movement there; she could not catch sight of them. She felt a hollow fear build up in the pit of her stomach, numbing her mind and making the world whirl around her. She fought against the darkness, hanging on to the reins, the prairie flashing by.

Something exploded from the shadows hurtling at the stallion's front, its sharp steel like claws fully extended and hot coal eyes burning with cruelty. Amber screamed as the stallion reared, trying to crash the creature under its hooves, almost throwing her off. The creature ducked away, its lean muscles flexing gracefully under its glossy black fur, vanishing as fast it appeared. It was a heart hound. The stallion gave a loud whinny, rolled its eyes, and pranced lightly with nervous energy. She could feel its damp sweat under her body.

The growls and noises seem to come from all around them now, a stench of evil—bitter and rotten made her gag as she tried to control the stallion. A loud shriek behind caught her off guard and she spun around, turning her horse away just as a bay mare charged by. Her eyes widened with horror as she realized that one of the heart hounds had attached itself to the rear of the horse while another ripped at the man, its claws digging and shredding at his back, its fangs dark with blood. His face was bleached under the moonlight and his expression contorted his pain as the creature went for his heart. He gave a low gurgle as blood spattered into the horse's mane and he slid off, hitting the grounds with a sickening crack, his neck twisted at an awkward angle. His mare bounded over the fallen body, blood drilling it like water. Another heart hound snapped the mare's legs, shredding them like ribbons. Amber was frozen in terror, her eyes glued to the gruesome sight before her; the smell of death hanging heavily in the air like a veil. A liquid spattered her cheeks and she snapped back into reality.

The stallion trembled under her, trapped by the slinking bodies around them. One heart hound looked at her and its mouth widened into something like a grin, its crimson tongue lolling out between razor sharp teeth. Its muscles bunched and it narrowed its eyes. Amber did not give the hound a chance to pounce. The stallion seemed to have read her thoughts as it sprung forward. The hound yelped as the stallion turned around and smashed its back hooves into the hound with all its might; the hound had not expected its quarry to come at it.

They did not stop to gloat over their small victory. Amber gave a yell as the stallion hurdled over the slumped shape and with a burst energy soared over the heart hounds. Amber bent low and hanged on tightly as the stallion dashed madly forward, the death hot upon their heels. Her heart hammered painfully in her chest and her breaths came out in gasps. She had never been so afraid and hanged on to a tiny strand of hope.

"Come on boy," She urged, her voice hoarse with fear. Droplets of sweat hit her face and the strands of hair blocked her sight. She shook her head vigorously, not daring to wipe them away with her hands. She could hear panting and growling behind her, their soft paws thudding the ground.

Before she knew it they were out of the prairie. The stallion leaped over bushes and dodged the tall plants that rose to meet them. She bent low over the stallion's body, unable to see the way in front of them. She no longer controlled the stallion but hanged on for dear life. She knew the stallion was running out of energy and was about to collapse, foam collecting on its mouth. It stumbled and lost its gait. The hounds behind her howled with glee, knowing that their dinner was close.

Amber fumbled through the bag, searching for something to defend herself, anything. She cursed angrily as she found nothing.

They burst into a clearing, the stallion collapsed onto the ground, exhausted, throwing Amber onto the ground. She fell heavily onto the ground and felt a sharp pang in her shoulders. She gasped with pain. Her vision became hazy and panic fluttered in her chest.

She screamed as she felt claws tear into her flesh, feeling the blood burst forth from the wound. Its eyes glowed as it opened its mouth. She stared into void, feeling its hot breath that stank with blood and flesh on her face and the saliva that dripped from its jagged fangs. Amber grunted with effort as she struggled to keep the hound away. It snapped at her chest and with one last effort, she lashed out, somehow knocking the hound away.

Amber twisted away and the hound snarled. It leaped for her again and she tried to dodge but panicked when she realized she could not feel her arm. It was too late.

Suddenly the hound disappeared in a flash of crimson. She felt a burst of heat and was momentarily blinded by the sudden flash of light. She choked as what seemed to be ash and smoking hair filled her nostrils. The hound had disintegrated into nothing.

She blinked the dirt and dust out of her eyes and looked around for her savior. An old bony man, his hair pure white was the only there. His brows were furrowed in a mask of concentration as he gazed around him. Amber gawked as a burst of flame shot from his hands and the hound seem to vanish from existence. The other hounds retreated, barring their teeth at the old man, watching their attacker intently. One rushed at the man, another burst of flames and then nothing. Seeing the facile way the man had decimated their numbers, they slinked back, before disappearing back into the darkness.

"Bags," the old man muttered, frowning at the scene in front him.

The man turned and looked at her, his expression had been resigned but now it became alarmed.

"Sent by Rahl aren't you?" He asked, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Perhaps this will teach him a lesson."

She tried to speak but could not make a sound, her body was completely frozen. His hands began to glow with a fierce light. A blaze burst forth, scorching the ground, directed at her.

This time she was going to die and there and no doubt about it.

She did not how to react. A small part of her was amused that she had escaped the stranger and the heart hounds only to die at the hands of an old man; another part of her was terrified. The emotions flashed through her as she was forced to witness her own death. It was too much; maybe death was better after all.

Time seemed to stop. From the corner of her eyes she caught a calm emerald glow. The Keeper? As the flames reached her, the emerald glow flared brightly, enveloping the clearing with its color. The old man threw his hands in front of his eyes, blinded by the sudden light. Amber felt herself being flung backwards. She hit the tree behind with such force that the world seemed to explode in her eyes. Everything became hazy and dim and then there was nothing.

* * *

><p><em>Again, I am sososo sorry... I've been really busy these past two weeks since i had a guest stay over at my house. My chapter will be up tomorrow. On another note, DON'T 4GET TO CHECK OUT TERRY GOODKIND'S NEWEST BOOK: THE OMEN MACHINE! =3.<br>_

_~Kev_


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